FORTESA

when she was 7, a boy pushed her on the playgroundshe fell headfirst into the dirt and came up with a mouthful of gravel and lines of blood chasing each other down her legswhen she told her teacher what happened, she laughed and said ‘boys will be boys honey don’t let it bother youhe probably just thinks you’re cute’but the thing is,when you tell a little girl who has rocks in her teeth and scabs on her knees that hurt and attention are the sameyou teach her that boys show their affection through aggressionand she grows into a young woman who constantly mistakes the twobecause no one ever taught her the difference'boys will be boys’turns into'that’s how he shows his love’and bruises start to feel like the imprint of lipsshe goes to school with a busted mouth in high school and says she was hit with a basketball instead of his fistthe one adult she tells scolds her'you know he loses his temper easilywhy the hell did you have to provoke him?’so she shrinksfolds into herself, flinches every time a man raises his voiceby the time she’s 16 she’s learned her job wellbe quiet, be soft, be easydon’t give him a reasonbut for all her efforts, he still finds one'boys will be boys’ rings in her head'boys will be boyshe doesn’t mean it he can’t help it’she’s 7 years old on the playground againwith a mouth full of rocks and blood that tastes like copper lovebecause boys will be boys baby don’t you knowthat’s just how he shows he caresshe’s 18 now and they’re drunkin the split second it takes for her words to enter his ears they’re ruinedlike a glass heirloom being dropped between the hands of generationsshe meant them to open his arms but they curl his fists and suddenly his hands are on her and her head hits the wall and all of the goddamn words in the world couldn’t save them in this momentshe touches the bruise the next dayboys will be boysaggression, affection, violence, love how does she separate them when she learned so early that they’re inextricably bound, tangled in a constant tug-of-warshe draws tally marks on her walls ratios of kisses to bruisesone entire side of her bedroom turns purple, one entire side of her bodyboys will be boys will be boys will be boyswhen she’s 20, a boy touches her hips and she jumpshe asks her who the hell taught her to be scared like that and she wants to laughdoesn’t he know that boys will be boys?it took her 13 years to unlearn that lesson from the playgroundso I guess what I’m trying to say isi will talk until my voice is hoarse so that my little sister understands that aggression and affection are two entirely separate thingsbaby they exist in difference universesmy niece can’t even speak yet but I think I’ll start with her nowdon’t ever accept the excuse that boys will be boysdon’t ever let him put his hands on you like thatif you see hate blazing in his eyes don’t you ever confuse it with lovebaby love won’t hurt when it comesyou won’t have to hide it under long sleeves during the summerandthe only reason he should ever reach out his handis to hold yours